Shitty Waiter

EXT. BREAD, BROTH, AND BEYOND RESTAURANT - DAY

The sun shines on the restaurant.  A large sign out front proclaims “Bread, Broth, and Beyond.”

INT. DINING ROOM

A bustling lunch hour in the upscale soup-and-sandwich restaurant.  The sound of customers talking fills the air.

TABLE FOR FOUR

Mitchell, carrying a tray filled with steaming bowls of soup, sets down a tray stand with his free hand.  He sets the tray on the stand next to a table of four.  Seated at the table are OLD MAN, OLD WOMAN, YOUNG MAN, and YOUNG WOMAN.

MITCHELL

All right.  Who had the lobster bisque?

OLD MAN

That’d be me.

Mitchell sets down the bowl of bisque in front of the man.

OLD MAN (CONT’D)

Can I get a spoon for that?

MITCHELL

There’s a spoon on the table, right next to the bowl there.

The Old Man picks up the spoon and, with much SLURPING, begins to greedily devour the bisque.

OLD MAN

Oooh, oooh!  Hot hot hot!

YOUNG WOMAN

Careful now, grandpa.  You don’t want to burn your tongue.

OLD WOMAN

I’d like some more tea.

INSERT - TABLE
Her iced tea glass is two-thirds full.

BACK TO SCENE

MITCHELL

(politely)

I’ll get you that as soon as I bring out all your food.

He continues to put bowls of soup in front of the customers.

YOUNG MAN

Where are our sandwiches?  I thought we ordered sandwiches.

MITCHELL

I’ll be back in a jiffy with those.  I didn’t have enough room on my tray to make it in one trip.

YOUNG WOMAN

(frowning at her soup)

I don’t think this is what I ordered.

(beat)

And where are our sandwiches?

MITCHELL

(pleasantly)

I’m going to get them right now.

He turns and walks toward the kitchen.

MITCHELL (CONT’D)

( to himself with false pleasantness)

I’ve only got two fucking hands.

KITCHEN WINDOW

COOK, a swarthy, sweaty man, stands at the window.

COOK

These sandwiches aren’t going to serve themselves.

INSERT - COUNTER

Three sandwiches are on a plate and garnished.  The fourth sits directly on the countertop.

BACK TO SCENE

MITCHELL

What’s this?

COOK

What’s what?

MITCHELL

This sandwich.  There’s no plate under it.  How can I serve a sandwich that doesn’t have a plate?

COOK

We’re out of clean plates.

MITCHELL

Didn’t Jim show up?

COOK

He showed up.  He can’t keep up.  Look.  I’m buried up to my eyeballs back here.  Why don’t you go and talk to him?

KITCHEN
Mitchell, exasperated, looks for Jim.

DISHWASHER

A RADIO BLASTS the Bullet Boys.  Jim is nowhere to be seen.

MITCHELL

Jim?

There is no response.

MITCHELL (CONT’D)

Jim?  I need you to wash some plates, buddy.

(to himself)

Son of a bitch.

(loudly, with growing rage)

Jim!

RACK UNDER DISHWASHER

JIM, forty-five years old, stubbled, graying, and unkempt, pokes his drowsy head out from under the dishwasher.

JIM

You need something, Mitch?

MITCHELL

I need you to do your job, Jim.  How can I serve sandwiches without plates?

Jim turns his attention to the song on the radio and begins to bop his head.

JIM

(singing along)

Smooth up in ya!

(no longer singing along)

You remember this song?  You know who does it?

MITCHELL

No, I don’t.

JIM

The Bullet Boys.

MITCHELL

Good to know.

Mitchell takes a plate from the tub of dirty dishes and begins to wash it by hand.  Jim emerges from his makeshift bed under the dishwasher.

JIM

You don’t have to do that, Mitchell.  It’s my job.

Jim’s dog jumps out from under the dish machine and begins to jump up on Mitchell and lick him.

JIM (CONT’D)

Down, Yngwie, down!  What have I told you about jumping up like that?

(to Mitchell)

Sorry, Mitch.

MITCHELL

It’s all right.

He pets Yngwie.

He has finished cleaning the plate.  He walks away from the dishwasher, noticing the dirty paw prints on his apron and uniform.

MITCHELL (CONT’D)

Great.  Just great.

TABLE FOR FOUR

Mitchell arrives with the tray carrying four sandwiches.

YOUNG MAN

There they are!

YOUNG WOMAN

I am starving.  I literally think I am dying of starvation.

OLD WOMAN

We told you we were hungry when we showed up.  How could you do this to us?  Bringing the soup first?  It’s madness.  There’s no substance to it.  Are you actively trying to kill us?

MITCHELL

I’m terribly sorry about the wait.  As you can see, we’re pretty busy right now.

YOUNG MAN

I’ve seen it much busier.  I’m a regular here!  Surely you must recognize me!  I ate here not six months ago!

MITCHELL

(obviously lying)

Yes.  Er, of course I do.

YOUNG MAN

Look, look over there!

OTHER SIDE OF DINING ROOM

Five people are seated at a table for six.  Otherwise every seat is filled.

YOUNG MAN (CONT’D)

An empty chair!  See?  I’ve seen it much busier than this.

Grandpa, without warning, reaches for the sandwiches on the tray.

OLD MAN

Sandwiches!

Retrieving a sandwich, he knocks his bowl of bisque onto his lap.

OLD MAN (CONT’D)

(in agony)

Aaarrrgghhh!

YOUNG MAN

Grandpa spilled his soup!

Young Woman rushes to his aid.

YOUNG WOMAN

Oh my god!  Oh my god!  This is too horrible!

YOUNG MAN

You okay, gramps?

OLD MAN

I’m fine, I’m fine.  Just scared me, that’s all.  It’s not hot anymore. It’s a good thing we have such a slow waiter.

The customers burst into LAUGHTER.  Mitchell reddens.

DINING ROOM - LATER

The lunch rush is over.  The room is devoid of customers.  The tables are cluttered with dirty dishes.

Mitchell stands at the table of four, putting dirty dishes into a bus tub.

INSERT - TABLETOP

The credit card slip sits among the clutter.

Mitchell picks it up.

BACK TO SCENE

Mitchell examines the slip.

INSERT - CREDIT CARD SLIP

The slip in Mitchell’s hand reads:  Total: $43.66 Tip: $8.34

BACK TO SCENE

Mitchell does the math in his head.

MITCHELL

(to himself)

Let’s see.  Eight thirty-four divided by forty-three . . .

He thinks it over.

MITCHELL (CONT’D)

(to himself)

Carry the four . . .

(beat)

Nineteen point one-zero percent!

(scoffing)

Whatever happened to twenty?

He walks to the window and looks to the parking lot.

MITCHELL’S POV

The OLD MAN, OLD WOMAN, YOUNG MAN, and YOUNG WOMAN are piling into a mini van.

DINING ROOM
Mitchell watches them get into the car.

MITCHELL

(to himself)

That’s gratitude for you.